


just want somebody to die for

by livingdead101



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29177223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingdead101/pseuds/livingdead101
Summary: Zayn never was good at this whole 'love" thing.Or, Zayn meets Liam when he needs him most, but Liam makes him question if love is supposed to be like this
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 19





	1. “So you’re into like, Shakespeare and shit?"

**Author's Note:**

> hope it's good. cheers for reading :) if you think the writing needs work it's probably because it does, so yeah
> 
> it's largely based on a relationship i had (my very first). 
> 
> all mistakes are mine :)

There is a bar just off campus where most students go to get drunk every Friday. It’s almost tradition to go, at least during your first year at uni. Zayn’s been there nearly every Friday since he started uni in the fall. Always with Louis. Mostly because he doesn’t really know a lot of people, not like Louis anyway, who is apparently already friends, or at least acquainted, with half their year. It’s not like Zayn isn’t, he’s just not as quick to get comfortable with just showing up and seeing who’s there. He needs to be with someone he feels safe with. He needs Louis.

And that’s why, every Friday, he goes over to Louis’ to drink a few beers before going to the bar. Zayn lives a good 30 minute bus ride away, but Louis lives a ten minute walk away, and alone. Zayn couldn’t afford student housing on top of tuition, but he was lucky to have an aunt who lived nearby and happily let him move in. Which is also why he always goes to Louis’. He loves his aunt. She’s cool with him coming in late, doesn’t tell his parents if he doesn’t come home at all at night, and she even goes outside with him for a smoke every now and then. And of course, the rent is nonexistent.

Tonight is the first Friday since their second semester started, and that usually means that there’s gonna be lots of people at the bar. Which, for Zayn at least, means lots of possibilities for a rebound. He swears he doesn’t think about Patrick anymore. Not that much, at least.

He had met him at the bar during his first semester. Patrick had swooped him of his feet. Had flirted and made him feel like he was someone to be desired, like he was the most beautiful person in the world. It was something Zayn had never felt before.  
Sure, he knew he wasn’t ugly, but he had never felt wanted like Patrick wanted him. It made him feel invincible. Of course, it quickly went to shit when he stopped answering his texts and calls, only to text back weeks later that he just wasn’t looking to get into anything right now.

Zayn had felt the rejection hard. Had taken it too personally and had so far failed to not let it get to him.

“Z, mate, you need to get over that piece of shit already,” Louis slurs. He’s already pissed and they haven’t even gotten to the bar yet. Zayn gives him a tired look. He knows, and he tells Louis as much.

“It’s just difficult, man, like, he was the first who made me feel, like, wanted - y’know?” he knows Louis doesn’t know. Knows he had boyfriends almost non-stop since coming to terms with his sexuality, or at least someone he regularly hooked up with. Zayn hasn’t.

“He’s still a piece of shit,” Louis says, shrugging and downing his beer. Zayn makes a non-committal sound. Maybe Patrick had been terrible towards him, but maybe Zayn had also been too clingy, too needy, too quick. Still hurt all the same.

“Alright, Lou, can’t we just get to the bar? It’s already nine and I want the good shots before they run out,” he says and stands up, stretching out his legs a bit. Louis’ floor isn’t the most comfortable where floors are concerned.

“The bar doesn’t close till like, three tonight, mate. ‘Sides, you know they always buy lots of that shit for the first Friday back, so there’s no need to be in such a rush,” Louis waves him off, but he also makes to stand. That seems to be a rather difficult task. He’s clutching at the coffee table, knocking over the empty bottles in the process, and he’s a bit unsteady on his feet. “Fuck, when did I get so drunk? Why aren’t you drunk?”

Zayn shrugs. Doesn’t even know himself. It’s not like he hadn’t had anything to drink. But he’s not really a fan of chugging beer, not like Louis is. He’s also not a fan of going to the bar sober, though, so on their way out he grabs a nearly empty bottle of whisky. He’ll drink it on their way over.

The walk to the bar is annoying and consists solely of him trying to get Louis to stay on the sidewalk while simultaneously trying to get the whisky to work quicker. It almost works, and by the time they get to the bar, he can feel the buzz. It’s barely there, but he can feel his limbs getting looser, his mind going a bit hazy.

He drags Louis to the bar, ordering ten shots and a beer. He pays, gets his shots and downs them one by one. Louis’ busy sipping on something pink. It’s one of the house specials, and it’s deadly. He takes a few gulps of his beer, trying to chase down the bitter flavour of the shots.

“We should dance!” Louis shouts over the pounding music, already swaying a bit to the rhythm. Zayn doesn’t dance. He would rather go outside for a smoke, would even be perfectly content to just stand at the bar. Because he really does not dance, not that it ever stops Louis from dragging him to the dance floor.

And that’s exactly what happens now. He nearly spills his beer all over himself with how strongly Louis is pulling his arm, just managing to angle it away from himself so it splashes on the floor instead.

He tries to get into the music, to feel the rhythm despite him not having any, and it kinda works. Can feel himself loosen up. It’s probably the shots doing their work on him. Louis is pressing up on him from behind, putting his hands on his hips as they grind together to some Justin Timberlake tune.

They dance like that for a few songs. Zayn’s thrown his head back to rest on Louis’ shoulder, finally feeling just the right amount of drunk to not give a fuck and just loose himself in the scene. He never knew he could crave this feeling. Not until he left his hometown and that image he just couldn’t seem to shake.

Coming to uni had been like a breath of fresh air. Like breaking free of who he was and realizing that he never did like that person. That person who seemed to fuck up everything he cared for. But now, dancing with his best friend pressed against his back, alcohol flowing in his veins and fogging up his brain, it felt like he could just _be_.

Like this was the feeling he never knew he craved. And _fuck_ , it was the best feeling in the world.

“We should join a game of beer pong,” Zayn says, looking up at Louis who smirks at his suggestion.

“Great idea,”

Next thing he knows he’s being dragged through the crowded dance floor and into the ‘beer pong-room’. It’s not actually that, just a sit-down area of the bar, but the tables are always used for beer pong.

They play beer pong, they drink a lot more, they dance. Harry joins their twosome at some point, and it’s a good night. They laugh and drink some more, Zayn makes conversation with strangers and smokes through nearly all his cigarettes. It’s nice.

Later, he’s at the bar alone. His buzz is just shy of non-existent, but he’s not ready to leave yet. Louis’ fucked off with Harry to do God knows what. Zayn doesn’t mind. Not really. As long as he’s drunk enough, he’ll make conversation with whoever is near.

Just as he goes to take a sip of his drink, he sees him at the other end of the bar.

Liam.

They’ve talked before, he knows. About exams and only with others involved in the conversation. But everyone knows Liam by name. He was the talk of campus when he auditioned for X Factor during their first semester. Zayn’s never really looked at him, never really considered him or thought about him.

Not until now, at least.

He looks to be alone, too. Zayn eyes him curiously. Maybe, he considers, maybe Liam would be up for taking him home, for being the rebound Zayn so desperately needs right now.

Without a second thought, Zayn’s walking up to him.

“Hey Liam,” Zayn smiles, greeting him like they’ve spoken before, like they know each other.

“Hey, uhm,” Liam looks at him, waiting for him to fill in the gaps.

“Zayn. I’m Zayn,”

Fuck. That’s embarrassing.

“Right, Zayn, hey,” his hand comes up to scratch at his neck, eyes crinkling with a half embarrassed smile. “Sorry,”

Zayn answers with a grin. If Liam’s embarrassed, then he has the upper hand.

“Fancy a smoke?” he asks. It’s a ploy to get Liam alone. He might even make a move. A suggestive comment or anything that he hopes will translate into _want to take me home and fuck me into your matress?_

“I don’t smoke,” and that’s not the answer he was hoping for. Liam seems to get that, so he quickly continues, “but I’ll go with you, if you want company.”

“Great,” he smirks up at Liam.

Outside, he’s trying his best to flirt. Doesn’t really have much experience or practice or anything, really. He’s not usually the one to make the first move on a guy, always only hinting that he wants to be flirted with, always quick to accept the flirting. The conversation flows easily enough. Liam’s funny, animated in a way that has Zayn bubbling with laughter and wanting to now more. So he tries even harder.

He thinks he’s doing an alright job. Liam seems to have accepted that Zayn’s approaching him wasn’t just a friendly thing, and really, that probably would have been his only worry. That Liam wouldn’t have realised he was trying to make something happen between them.

They’re surrounded by other students, smoking and laughing together with their friends. It’s nice out here. Just a little yard with a few benches and fairy lights over their heads.

“Hey, you wanna go somewhere a bit more private?” Liam asks him, tongue poking out to lick at his lips. Zayn’s staring. He knows he is.

“Yes,” he breathes, not taking his eyes off Liam’s lips. He hadn’t really noticed them before, but they’re plump, this delicious shade of red, and _fuck_ yes, does he want to go somewhere more private.

Liam takes his hand and leads him back inside. They go through the crowded dance floor, past the beer pong room, to the wardrobe where Liam instructs him to get his coat. Then they stop to get another drink at the bar.

Their hands never leave each other. Zayn doesn’t even get a proper hold of his drink before Liam drags him away behind the bar, out through the back into another yard.

This one’s not as warm and loud as the other, probably an employee only kind of place. There’s just a picnic table and a few lamps, and it’s almost dead silent. The only noise being traffic and a few loud laughs from the other yard.

Liam releases his hand, goes to sit on the table and motions for Zayn to follow him. He does, shuddering as he sits on the cold surface.

“Didn’t even know this existed,” he comments, looking around.

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Liam says, taking a sip of his drink.

Zayn shrugs. “I suppose. How do you know it?”

“My mate works at the bar. He lets me come out here,” Which means he’s not the first person Liam’s taken out here. Maybe that’s his move. Taking the pull of the evening back here for some private time. Zayn makes a mental note not to fall for it.

“It’s sick,”

“So what do you study?” Liam asks, eyeing him curiously. There’s something in his eyes. Something genuine, Zayn thinks. Like he might actually care.

“English lit, been thinking about taking some art courses as well,” he states.

“So you’re into like, Shakespeare and shit? And what’s that bird, Jane whats-her-face?” Zayn can’t help but scrunch his eyebrows at the ignorant comment.

“No. English lit is so much more than Shakespeare and Jane Austen. And it’s not about the authors or their stories, necessarily. Like, whether it’s good or bad. It’s not really the point. Not for me, at least,” he explains. He doesn’t really want to go into it any further. Knows he can ramble for ages about the importance of literature. But he also knows that it’s not how you flirt.

“So what is it? For you, I mean?” Liam still looks genuine. It rattles Zayn a bit. He’s not used to people being interested in his point of view. Not about this, at least.

“It’s, uhm,” he tries, suddenly not sure what to say, “like, it’s what it says about their world? You know, how the story tells us something about the society at that time. So like, it doesn’t matter if it’s shit, if I hate the characters or their story, because it’s like, the little things, you know?” Liam looks at him like no, he definitely does not know.

He sighs, “Nevermind, what do you study then, Leeyum?”

Liam laughs. Quite adorably so, if he might add. “No, Zayn, please. Tell me more. Make me understand,” And it’s just so endearing, so easy to just give in. “I just study law, it’s like, boring as all hell. So please. Continue.”

Zayns swears it’s the alcohol that makes him feel slightly dizzy when he looks into Liam’s eyes. They’re just this brown colour. Something that Zayn thinks resembles fall and coziness and safety.

It has to be the alcohol, really, because Zayn hardly knows this guy, yet somehow he feels like swimming in those eyes.

“Can’t, mate. It’s a passion, you won’t understand it if you don’t feel it,” he says, pulling out a cigarette from his coat pocket and lighting it. He’s smiling at Liam, something playful and challenging.

“Yeah? Never knew English lit was so… complex,”

The thing is, it’s really not. He just wants to be interesting, is all. He thinks he might be succeeding, because surely Liam can’t be that interested in English literature.

But Zayn keeps smiling this easy smile. The conversation goes well enough, he talks a bit more than he normally would to a person he barely knows. Mostly it’s the alcohol doing the talking for him. He’s usually not the type of person to get this personal with someone who’s supposed to just be a fuck.

And the more they talk, the more he wants Liam to take him home. He might actually like this guy with the crinkling brown eyes and the inviting warm smile. And Liam might well just what the doctor ordered. He’s heard something about the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but it hadn’t worked the first time he went home with some guy he couldn’t even remember the name of. It hadn’t been quite right.

Liam, however, seems like he could be what does the trick.

They laugh and shift closer. They share intense eye contact and lingering touches. Like the accidental brush of an arm, a hand on the thigh whenever he laughs at something Liam says. Zayn fakes being too cold and makes Liam wrap his arms around in order to stay warm. It’s easy.

The night becomes colder and darker, and the topics they discuss get heavier. Somehow Liam ends up telling him how he was bullied as a kid, even as a teenager. And Zayn just listens. Watches, smokes, and listens.

“I never really had that many friends, either. But that’s okay, like, that’s fine, but it just made me try even harder when I came here, you know?”

Zayn nods, even though he doesn’t really. On the contrary, Zayn felt fine with having only Louis. He never really felt the need to have a huge group of friends. Always thought that it made the individual friendships too superficial, and he would always gravitate towards one person anyway.

He’s just about to answer when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. “Sorry,”

It’s Louis.

_Louis: whre ru matr??_

He rolls his eyes at his best mate’s attempt at texting. “It’s just my mate asking me where I am,” he explains as he quickly types an answer.

_Zayn: with this guy, why?_  
_Louis: wer_  
_Zayn: why??_  
_Louis: ned 2 go hme_  
_Zayn: just give me 10_

“Might have to go,” he sighs, pocketing his phone. He looks over to find Liam watching him intensely. Well, maybe not him, but he’s definitely starting at his mouth.

Without answering, Liam leans forward and presses his lips against Zayns. It’s gentle at first, warm and definitely welcome. It doesn’t take long for him to deepen it, making it hungrier and more desperate. The angle is kind of awkward with them sitting side by side on a table, but it works.

They stay like that for a bit, kissing, breathing into each others’ mouths. “Liam, _fuck_ ,” he gasps, “I have to go,” Liam just hums and keeps working his way up and down his neck, biting gently along the way.

Zayn would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this, said he wanted to leave. Because he definitely didn’t.

“ _Liam_ ,”

He pushes at Liam’s shoulder weakly. Liam comes back up, a satisfied smirk on his bruised lips. He looks fucking sinful and if Zayn didn’t have a plastered best mate to take care of, his night might have ended differently.

“Let’s go then,”

Liam’s hand is clasped in his as they make their way back inside to the main area. They find Louis at the bar, basically hanging off Harry and eyes almost all the way closed, like he might actually fall asleep right there.

He watches as Harry nudges Louis, probably to alert him to Zayn’s presence. His eyes open a bit and he looks straight at Zayn. It takes a while, but his lips slowly part in a huge grin.

“Zaynie!”

Suddenly Zayn has an armful of his drunk best mate. He laughs and pats Louis on the back. “Alright there, babe?”

“Mhmm,” Louis hums, “you left me, Zaynie,”

Zayn snorts. Like it’s ever been a problem before. “You left first, idiot,”

He looks at Liam who’s watching them with an amused grin, so he sticks his tongue out at him, making him laugh in return. It’s adorable.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Although it’s not actually a question. Louis still nods like it is.

He helps Louis to the wardrobe to collect his coat, helps him put it on and makes sure that they have all their stuff. It’s a rather difficult task, to be honest, because Louis doesn’t even know what he had with him. He just leaves it at that.

Just before they’re about to head out, he feels a hand close around his wrist and he’s being tugged backwards into someone’s arms. He looks up to find Liam, who crashes his lips down onto Zayn’s in a bruising kiss. Something to hold onto, Zayn thinks, maybe a promise of some sorts.

“Is tonight all I get, then?” Liam asks him when he breaks away from the kiss. He’s looking so intently into Zayn’s eyes, wondering, almost pleading.

“You’ll have to text me to find out, I guess,” he shrugs before a phone’s being thrusted at him. He smirks but puts his number in it. If he puts a little heart emoji next to his name, then only he and Liam have to know.

He brushes a quick kiss to Liam’s lips before wriggling out of the embrace and out into the streets.


	2. "What look are you going for, anyway?"

Zayn wakes up with a nasty headache and Louis halfway on top of him. His breath smells like a brewery and it takes everything Zayn has in him to not puke. Instead, he pushes him off and tries to breathe. Fuck, he really needs to stop smoking so many cigarettes when he parties.

As he lies there, his thoughts flicker to Liam. This guy who was just there. Maybe he was a little obnoxious in hindsight. Who talks to a stranger about their past with bullying anyway? Perhaps it was some kind of strange flirting technique, and if so - did it ever work for him?

Zayn has to admit that yeah, it had definitely worked _on_ him.

He was intrigued, really. Wanted to know more about this sensitive bloke who let strangers in like that. Was he a little disappointed that he hadn’t gone home with Liam? Maybe, yeah, a bit. Although, if Liam did end up texting him, perhaps it would have been for the better. To not give it all up right away.

Like he had done with Patrick.

He shudders at the thought.

Next to him, Louis stirs awake.

“I’m never drinking again,” he groans, rolling over on his back, “how did we get home?”

Zayn can’t help but snort.

The ten minute walk had ended up taking near thirty. Louis had been half on his back by the time they arrived at the flat. His own buzz had died considerably over the time he and Liam had been out back, but by the end of the night he had definitely been feeling as shattered as Louis had looked.

“Had to carry you, you were hanging half off Harry when I found you,”

Louis groans.

Understandably so. He knew Harry had a crush on him, had had it for the longest time. But Harry was one of his best friends (not as good as Zayn, of course), and he wouldn’t want to compromise that.

“You didn’t let me say anything stupid to Harry, right?”

Zayn laughs, “I don’t know, mate, wasn’t with you two,”

At that comment, Louis raises his eyebrows. It seems it just jiggled something in his memory.

“Oh, you were with some guy somewhere. You wouldn’t tell me where. Did you do unspeakable things in unspeakable places, then?” he sounds almost hopeful.

“No, 'course not. I’m not you, Lou,”

“Boring. Fuck, I think I might be dying,”

“Y’shouldn’t drink that pink shit, then.”

“Fuck off,” he shoves weakly at Zayn who can’t help but laugh at the attempt.

They lay in silence for a while, too tired to even try and get up.

“Harry told me again last night that he’s in love with me,” Louis eventually says, “Wish he would stop,”

He never really means it, though. Secretly loves the attention and enjoys playing hard to get. It’s one of his most annoying traits, Zayn thinks, because he is always the one having to listen to his complaining.

“Then tell him you’re not interested, it’s not that hard,”

It’s the same thing Zayn always says.

“No,”

It’s the same thing Louis always replies.

One of his most annoying traits.

It’s been like this for a while. Ever since Louis and Harry grew closer and found out how much they actually have in common. Mostly it’s their love for Louis they have in common, though. But he’s sure Louis enjoys Harry’s company, too. And if Louis ever got over himself, they would make a great couple, Zayn thinks.

“Who’s that guy you were with, anyway?” Louis asks, obviously trying to get out of yet another lecture from Zayn.

Zayn makes a non-committal sound. “Just this guy, Liam.” he shrugs, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice him, he was with me when I came to get you,”

“Didn’t see shit, mate. But Liam, yeah? What’s his last name?” Zayn was actually sort of hoping that Louis would have spotted him and known him. Perhaps could have told Zayn a bit more about him.

“Dunno, but it was that bloke who went on the X Factor? He was nice, like, think he might text me sometime,”

At that, Louis’ eyes go wide. “You’re fucking with me. Liam Payne?”

“Is there a problem with him, like, do you know him?” he says, confusion settling on his face. He had never heard Louis talk about him before, but from his reaction he clearly knows _something_ about him.

“No, no, he’s just friends with Harry, like, I think they play football together,” Louis looks away. He’s hiding something but Zayn’s too tired to get him to spill.

“Anyway, he took me out back, and we just talked, like, it was nice. Kissed for a bit, too. Was gonna go home with him, actually, if you hadn’t gotten so pissed,”

Louis snorts, “Maybe that was for the best, then,”

And that just makes Zayn even more confused. Just a moment ago, Louis was hoping he would have fucked some stranger somewhere public, and now he’s glad Zayn didn’t? He definitely knows something about Liam. Something that’s not good.

“But you gave him your number, yeah? Think you might go out with him, if he texts you?” he asks, probably to keep Zayn from asking what that comment meant.

“Yeah, yeah. Might. But we’ll see if he even reaches out. Dunno.”

They leave it at that.

It’s near two in the afternoon when they get up, their hunger winning the battle over their tiredness. As usual, Louis has nothing to eat. He never thinks to stock up on hangover necessities, and they end up just ordering pizzas. They don’t talk about Liam anymore, Zayn doesn’t ask and Louis doesn’t offer. But he can’t help but check his phone a little more often, just in case he’s missed something from Liam.

He hasn’t. Not when he checks it at two, not at three, not at three-thirty and not at four.

He can’t figure out if it’s good or bad. Maybe he was kinda hoping Liam would text him. Honestly, he would have been happy with a ‘happy hangover’ or _something_. Despite Louis’ subtle warning (was that even what that was?), he’s still intrigued by Liam. Still wants him to text, and he curses himself for not getting Liam’s number, too.

Although, if he’s being honest, he probably wouldn’t have texted first.

It’s just self preservation, he figures. After everything that happened with Patrick, he just doesn’t wanna get hurt again. He honestly thinks there’s nothing more humiliating than serving yourself up on a silver platter only to get rejected. But it’s fine. He’s _fine_.

He tries to be, anyway.

If Liam doesn’t text him, that’s fine, too. It’s not like he promised he would. Zayn didn’t tell him he _wanted_ him to, either. Told him to try. He’s probably been around Louis too much at this point. Has listened to him go on about Harry and has watched him play hard to get, oblivious to Harry’s attempts at something more.  
So sue him, if he felt good about Liam being the one wanting and he was the one being wanted. Everyone likes it when people like them, right? So he can sulk a little if he wants.

He goes home after dinner. Has already texted his aunt not to make anything for him.

She’s not home when he gets there, is probably at a friends’ place or something, so he just goes to his room and lies on the bed.

He thinks about Liam a lot that night.

About how he hasn’t texted him, about last night, about their kiss and the way Liam’s hand had felt in his own.

And for the first time, he thinks about the way Liam looks. Wonders if he’s actually attracted to him. Last night, attraction didn’t really matter to him. Just wanted something easy, which Liam was. But as he lays on his bed, thinking about what Liam had said to him when he left, he thinks that now, attraction does matter.

He tries hard to picture him again. The soft, chocolate-like eyes. The crinkles around them when he smiles too hard. The thick hair, slight curls at the tips like he either wants to grow it out or forgot to get it cut. Broad shoulders, arms that look like they would do a wonderful job at manhandling him. Lips like sin. Red like he’d just finished a berry flavoured popsicle.

He wasn’t Zayn’s usual type. But maybe he could be, eventually.

If Liam decides to text him, then Zayn decides that it is at least worth a try. Maybe attraction can be learnt, he thinks, maybe Liam could be the most attractive person in the world if Zayn would just let him be.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head. It’s too soon to think like that when nothing’s even happened yet. Kissing someone you meet at a bar is easy, it doesn’t really matter if you’re attracted. Zayn had kissed plenty of people he wasn’t attracted to but who was attracted to him. Never meant anything.

And honestly, he had to be careful with thinking that things mean something. Because he had found that they rarely ever did.

With a sigh he gets up and waddles to the kitchen. One thing he really enjoys about living with an established adult is that the kitchen is always stocked with food. His aunt had made it clear that he could just ask for whatever he wanted and she would make sure to get it. And, unlike back at his parents’, there isn’t a Waliyha to eat it all before he even has a chance.

He ends up just fixing himself a bowl of cereal, too tired to make an effort and not really hungry. It’s just his hangover making him feel peckish.

When he returns to his room he can’t help but check his phone again. Just in case Liam’s texted. He bites his bottom lips to contain a smile when he sees that Liam has, in fact, texted.

_Liam: heyy its liam from last nite, hope ur hangover isnt tooo bad :)_

He sighs and pushes his phone away and starts overthinking what would be a good amount of time to wait texting him back. He’s just about to ask Louis’ advice when he gets another text from Liam.

_Liam: had a great time w/ u_

If that makes Zayn’s stomach full of butterflies, then that’s cool, just like he’ll be when he texts Liam back.

_Zayn: hangover’s fine :) and me too_

He groans at himself. He’s a shit texter and it honestly sounds like he’s brushing Liam off, like he doesn’t want to talk to him.

_Liam: would u want to idk… repeat it in the near future?_

Yes, he would. He sighs, knows he’s gonna have his plate full for the next few weeks. It’s like that for the first month of the semester. It’s all plan this, plan that, schedule this and schedule that. Trying to keep up with his reading and eventually admit defeat, telling himself that it’s fine, he’s just gonna have a stressful exam period. He doesn’t know any better, either. It’s only his second semester, and he knows how his first had ended up.

Sure, his grades had been fine. He was satisfied for the most part. Had partied his way all through the first few months of the semester, settling into his new life. Meeting Louis had also played a part in that, what with his best mate being the life of the party and always insisting that Zayn go with him.

_Zayn: that would be cool, just u know, beginning of the semester is quite busy_

The response is almost instant, like Liam had been waiting with his phone in his hands for a reply.

_Liam: thats cool, me too :) what about a couple of weeks from now? think u might be able to take a break to grab a beer or smthn?_  
_Zayn: yeah, can definitely do that :)_

The conversation ends like that. The butterflies in Zayn’s stomach won’t stop fluttering around. It’s only slightly bugging him.  
He tries to study a bit, prepare for next week’s lectures, but eventually realizes he’s not gonna get anything done when Liam constantly pops up in his mind. He makes a mental note to tell Liam that if he fails his classes, it’s all his fault.

When he’s settled in bed around midnight, tired and still a little hungover, his phone buzzes.

_Liam: sweet dreams, zayn :)_

The text makes him smile from ear to ear and he falls asleep with it plastered on his lips.

…

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur, it seems. He and Liam have taken to almost constantly texting. It’s just about small stuff, mostly. But it’s a nice way to get to know someone, he thinks.

Like how Liam apparently likes comics just as much as him. Or how Liam is incredibly into football, has a spot on their campus footie team. Zayn isn’t really, couldn’t give less of a fuck about it, to be honest. But he likes reading Liam’s mini-monologues on the subject, it makes him feel like he’s being let in on the important parts of Liam. Maybe it’s kinda superficial, but he thinks that how a person talks about their passions is a great way to get to know them.

They talk about their friends. Mostly Zayn just talks about Louis. How they met, how Louis just kinda wormed his way into his life and made a home for himself. It feels only yesterday that Louis came up to him at some intro event, telling him he looked just as bored as Louis felt, and if he was up for “getting the fuck out of here,”. He had agreed easily and they had ended up getting shitfaced instead.

It was one of his best decisions since coming to university, honestly.

Louis was such a passionate friend. He didn’t really care that they had only known each other for a couple of weeks before proclaiming to Zayn that he was his best friend, that this was the start of a long and beautiful friendship. It had made his heart grow twice its size.

They were opposites in the best way. Louis dragged Zayn everywhere he went, made him socialize. Zayn, in turn, made Louis think twice about his decisions (especially the very stupid ones) and relax. Made him more serious about his studies, as well, something Louis struggled with heavily during their first semester.

He had also shown Zayn a whole different world of partying. Shown him that it could be fun, had made him shed his shyness, too. To a point where he could easily approach someone like Liam and feel confident in himself. Somewhat confident, anyway.

Louis was also honest with him. Sometimes brutally honest, but only if he felt like Zayn needed it. Which, to be honest, was most of the time. His limited experience with guys made him an easy target, Louis had told him once (“Honestly, mate, can’t just go around ready to drop to your knees for anyone who tells you you’re pretty,”). It had taken him some time and Patrick to realise that Louis was right.

He doesn’t tell Liam about Patrick. Doesn’t want to scare Liam away with a story that hardly works out to his advantage. Instead, he sends Liam pictures of every dog he sees when he’s out for a walk, and Liam always gushes about how cute it is. They always come up with names for them ( _definitely looks like a paul to me_ ).

It’s adorable. Already feels kinda domestic even though they haven’t actually gone out yet.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

It’s just- he doesn’t want to move too fast. He’s kinda afraid that it’ll scare Liam away all of a sudden, that he’ll change his mind. So he tries to not text back too fast, tries to not text about _everything_ under the sun.

It’s working for him, he thinks at least.

In the nights, they discuss more serious things. Personal things. Liam tells him about his sisters, Zayn tells him about his. They talk about their upbringings and families. He learns that Liam has two sisters, both of them older. That he loves them but he always felt like their father favoured them over him.

How he always tried to do better.

It breaks Zayn’s heart because parents should love their children equally and unconditionally. Which, he knows, is easy for him to say. Was always favoured by his father. He thinks that maybe it’s just because he was the only boy out of all his siblings. But he’s just as close with his mum. Her sonshine, as she likes to call him.

Eventually, when he’s complaining about his Gothic Literature class on a Thursday night, Liam asks him about that date. He grins to himself when Liam calls it that. A date. He agrees to meet him at a bar in town on Saturday at eight.

…

It’s six o’clock on Saturday and Zayn has no idea what to wear. He obviously wants to look good, but he doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, either.

“You look like shit. Y’should just cancel,” Louis’ voice comes from his phone where it’s propped up on a shelf. 

He facetimed him earlier, wanting the moral support. He should have known he wouldn’t be getting that.

“Why did I call you?” Zayn groans and looks at himself in the mirror. He’s just wearing black skinnies and a black t-shirt. It looks casual enough, he thinks. 

“Because you love me and you can’t do anything without me,” comes Louis’ response.

Zayn nods to himself, silently agreeing, and goes to switch out the t-shirt for a red sweater. It’s slightly too big, the sleeves hanging just a bit over his wrists. He likes it.

“Yeah, wear that. Looks like you’re wearing your boyfriends’ sweater, mate, honestly. Way to scare him off,” Louis says, mouth full of crisps.

“Then what should I wear? You tell me, then, since you hate everything I own, apparently,” he says, frustrated. 

“What look are you going for, anyway? Are you going for the ‘take me home to your parents’ house’-look or the ‘wouldn’t I look good on your dick’-look?”

None of the above, he thinks. Maybe the latter. He groans, on the verge of just giving up and just throwing on the first thing he sees.

He doesn’t _know_ what he’s going for. 

He picks up a t-shirt with a Batman logo on it. 

“Christ, do you even _want_ to get with this guy?” Louis complains. Zayn flips him off.

“Liam likes Batman,” he mumbles, but still puts the shirt back in his closet.

Louis hums, like he’s thinking, “Wear that white henley, the one that clings to you and is slightly see-through in the right lighting,” 

He rummages through his shirts and finds the one Louis’ talking about. It wouldn’t be his first choice, but he supposes Louis’ right. He looks at himself in the mirror when he’s put it on. It does look good. 

“Now you’re lookin’ like a snack,” he can hear the smirk Louis has on his lips. Satisfied with himself and his choice. 

…

He smokes through three cigarettes on his way from the bus to the bar. He’s jittery, nervous. It’s his first real date. Going out to meet like this. It feels so.. _official_. Almost like an assessment, like a ‘is this a thing we want to go further with’ and not just hanging out and seeing where time takes it.

Just before he reaches the bar, he slows down a bit and tries to get himself together. Be cool, unaffected. He tells himself that Liam’s probably just as nervous, just as keen as him to keep up the good impressions they made on each other. 

When he spots Liam waiting outside for him, he puts on his most charming smile. Tongue slightly pressed to the back of his teeth. He makes his eyes a bit bigger, knows it makes him look softer. Louis had even called him adorable once. 

Liam’s bundled up in a thick scarf, gloves and a beanie, and he beams when Zayn steps closer.

“Zayn, hey,” he blushes slightly. The smile works, apparently.

Zayn smiles. “Hey, hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”

“Not at all, only just got here,” he smiles back, and honestly it’s such a bright smile. He looks truly happy to finally see Zayn again. It makes him blush.

“Shall we, then?” he says and gestures to the entrance. 

They make their way inside and find an unoccupied booth. The bar’s not too crowded, fortunately. Zayn was quite worried that it would be packed and way too loud for them to actually hold a conversation. 

“I’ll get the first round, yeah?” Liam says as Zayn’s taking his coat off. Before he can answer though, Liam’s gone. 

As he waits for Liam to return with their drinks, he takes the bar in. He hasn’t been there before, prefers to just stick to the one near campus or Louis’ floor, but it’s nice. The clientele is mostly a bit older than they are, it seems. Not by a lot, but they’re definitely not uni students. 

The interior is kept in muted reds and browns, and all the upholstery on the chairs and the benches are leather. The vibe in the bar is just chill, the patrons all obviously just out for a relaxing time with good friends. It’s not empty, but it’s not crowded either. And despite them not knowing each other very well and out on a date, he thinks that to anyone looking, they could just be two mates out for a beer and a catch-up.

“So how are your classes going?” Liam asks when he slides back into the booth, setting down a beer in front of Zayn and himself.

He shrugs. “They’re okay, I suppose. The literature for some of the classes are quite boring this semester, but most of it’s pretty cool,”

“What are your subjects?”

He takes a sip of his beer. “Uhm, obviously Gothic Lit, and then First World War poetry, that’s quite an ace class, actually,”

Liam nods along. “So you’re into poetry? Or just like, the period or something,” he scrunches his nose, seemingly not very confident in this field.

“Uhm, yeah, poetry. It’s a great way of expressing yourself without being too literal about it, don’t you think?” Zayn blushes a bit. He doesn’t usually share his love for poetry with people, and he definitely won’t tell anyone that he has a notebook where he tries to write something of his own. Not even Louis.

“Definitely. I’ve done my fair share of songwriting. Bad attempts, really, but I always found it to be quite therapeutic,”

Of course with him being a singer, he would have tried his hand at songwriting eventually. Zayn doesn’t know if this would be a good time to address his X Factor audition, or if he should even mention it at all. Hell, he doesn’t even know how far Liam had made it or he was any good.  
He decides not to. “Yeah? That’s cool,” he thinks about what to say next. “So you’re a song writing footballer? That’s not a combo you usually come by,”

Liam laughs and rubs a hand behind his neck. “No, yeah, I get that a lot. I suppose I don’t quite fit in with a stereotype. But who does? Like, you definitely look like a stereotype with your ink and the cigarettes, but that’s not all, you know?”

Zayn can’t help but smirk, “No, I don’t know. Please, proceed,”. He leans back in his seat, arm lounging on the table and fingers playing with the condensation on his glass.

He eyes Liam, expecting, watches him blush furiously as he tries to think of the words.

“Just, like, you know the stereotypical bad boy vibe you give off, and like, if a person were to just look at you and not talk to you, like, they might be kind of intimidated?”

He honest to God cackles at that. Can’t really help it. It’s hilarious to think of Liam finding him intimidating.

“What?” Liam asks with raised eyebrows, “Like you don’t know that’s how you come off.”

And yeah, okay, he does kind of know.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just funny to hear that you find me intimidating,”

He’s still laughing, tries to contain it by covering his mouth with his hand.

“I _don’t_ ,” Liam huffs, “but it’s hot, like, definitely got me interested,”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, leans a little forward in his seat, “but what kept me interested is how your personality is so far from that stereotype,”

Zayn blushes, just further confirming Liam in how he’s not actually a ‘bad boy’. “Maybe we fit then, because you’re definitely not the puppy I thought I picked up at the bar,” he counters.

Now it’s Liam’s turn to blush. “Yeah, about that night. You know how I didn’t know your name?” Zayn nods. “Definitely knew. Just didn’t want to seem… creepy?”

“That’s hilarious, babe. How’d you know?”

“Might’ve asked Niall,” he mumbles, blushes like he’s a little ashamed, “Niall had to ask Harry, like, it was a whole thing.”

Zayn is honestly flattered. That Liam had gone through so much trouble just to find out the name of some random bloke.

“Fancied me a bit, did you?” he teases which just makes Liam blush harder.

“I-uh, yeah. Look at you, like, _shit_.” Liam’s admission ignites a fire in him, and Louis’ words sound louder in his ears than ever (“ _can’t just go around ready to drop to your knees for anyone who tells you you’re pretty_ ”).

“Look at _you_ ,” he says instead, ogling Liam now. Without his coat he’s all muscles and tan skin. The button-up he’s wearing is clinging to his biceps and his chest, and it honestly does wonders for his body. It also makes Zayn’s thoughts fly, thinking about how many positions it could manhandle him into, how his arms would feel wrapped around at night. It’s dizzying.

“Could be quite the power couple, huh?”

And that comment just, wow. It’s like it’s a night of confessions, apparently. Zayn doesn’t want to confess to Liam what his initial thoughts about him were. He’s honestly quite embarrassed about that now. How he only approached him for some harmless fun, wanted to use him to get over someone else. How Liam apparently had seen him before, made an effort.

But that comment is just- it’s too soon. Like now that Liam spoke those words, that that’s what he wants. To be a couple. Eventually, anyway. And okay, yeah, that _was_ why they were even there, no?

“We’ll see,” he just answers, plastering a smirk on his lips.

The date goes well. They keep up the easy banter, they flirt over a couple of more beers. It’s effortless, really. And it’s nice to know that whatever connection they had when they texted, they also have it now that they’re actually together, talking and enjoying each others’ company.

By the time they decide to call it a night, Zayn isn’t quite as ready to let Liam go. So when Liam asks him how he’s gonna get home, it’s surprisingly easy to just _lie_.

“Don’t know, actually. Think I might’ve missed the last bus,” he shrugs. He hasn’t, but Liam doesn’t know which bus he takes, so he’s none the wiser.

“Oh, do you have anywhere you can crash? Maybe at Louis’? Or like, you’re welcome to stay at mine, I-uh-”

“Yeah? That would be great,” Zayn flashes him his best and brightest smile. He could go to Louis’, he just doesn’t want to.

“Sure, it’s no problem. I even have a spare mattress I can get out for you,”

And, like, no? He’s definitely not going to sleep on a mattress on the floor, not when they are perfectly capable of sharing.

“We can share, like, I’m not fussed,” he says as innocently as possible. He just gets a grin and a shrug for an answer.

Liam’s flat is apparently not very far away, either, and Zayn barely gets to finish his cigarette before Liam stops in front of an old building. There’re five floors on it, and Zayn really prays that the building either has an elevator or that Liam lives on the first floor.

He does live on the first floor. When he let’s them in, he apologises for the mess immediately. It makes Zayn think that he might not have expected them to go home together. Obviously Liam already knows about his living situation, it’s a given that, if anything were to happen between them, it would be at Liam’s.

The flat isn’t very big. Only really has a small kitchen that also functions as an entrance, even smaller bathroom and one big room for living. The furniture is sparse. Only has a bed, two chairs in front of a TV and coffee table. And oh, he thinks, looking at the bed. Now he understands why Liam offered to get out that spare mattress. His bed is a single bed.

He’s a bit surprised. Doesn’t everyone in their twenties have at least a small double?

“I get why you suggested that spare mattress,” he just says.

“Yeah, uh, it’s not much. Not yet,”

“Nah, it’s great. Like, at least it’s your own,”

They stand there for a bit, in the middle of the room. It’s not exactly awkward, but when Zayn made it his mission to go home with Liam he hadn’t thought any further than getting there. Now that he’s here, he’s not really sure what to do with himself.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah? I have a spare toothbrush you can borrow,” Liam tells him while walking out through the kitchen and into the bathroom. Zayn hears him scramble around, probably for the toothbrush, and joins him a beat later.

They brush their teeth in silence, slightly grinning at each other in the mirror and bumping shoulders. They each take their turns peeing, Zayn going first, and when he’s finished Liam’s handing him a shirt to sleep in. When Liam’s in there, he takes survey of the bed situation. They _could_ probably both fit, however it would be kind of a tight one.

He decides that he would actually really like to test out how Liam’s arms would feel around him. Quickly, he rids himself of his clothes and puts on the t-shirt. It’s too big, almost hanging off one shoulder, but it’s soft and smells nice.

Before he can change his mind he slips under the covers of Liam’s bed. It doesn’t have to be awkward. When Liam comes out and sees him lying there, he raises an eyebrow.

“So I’ll take the spare mattress, then?” he asks.

Zayn reaches a hand towards him, and, when he steps closer, yanks him down on top of him.

“Plenty of room, babe. We can share,” he whispers.

Liam feels nice on top of him. He could get used to this.

“Yeah, okay,” he eventually gives in and joins Zayn under the covers.

They lie facing each other. Zayn’s pressed tightly into the wall, Liam’s probably hanging halfway off the bed. It doesn’t quite work. They don’t move, though. Instead just gaze into each others’ eyes, both slightly nervous. Liam laughs, low and to himself, before pressing forward and kissing Zayn.

It’s great. It’s exactly why Zayn came.

“Turn around. It’ll be more comfortable if we spoon,”

He does, wriggles under the covers and presses his arse firmly into Liam’s crotch. It makes Liam gasp.

“ _Zayn_ , don’t. _Please_ ,”

He giggles. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asks as innocently as he can muster.

Liam groans. “Please, I’m trying to be a gentleman,”

Zayn sighs, obeys “Fine,”

“Goodnight, Leeyum,” he says and settles on a pillow that smells like Liam. And suddenly he’s surrounded by Liam completely when he feels a hand settle on his hip and lips as soft as feathers on his neck.

“Goodnight, baby,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked this! 
> 
> i know this kind of zouis friendship is seen and done so many times but i'm just such a sucker for it so i couldnt not have it in there. 
> 
> please tell me what u think xxxx lots of love


	3. "Knew you were a saucy minx, Z,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing smut, so if it's cringey, i apologise, and please feel free to skip it

He can’t seem to doze off into that sweet sleep. Liam’s pressed to his back, snoring softly into his hair, an arm wrapped around his middle. He doesn’t even know what time it is, how long he’s been lying awake. And it’s not that he’s not comfortable, because Liam’s body was definitely made to cuddle, but it’s just a bit too hot with them pressed so closely together, the covers still over them, and he’s afraid to wake Liam up if he tries to push them off. There’s not enough room to move, either, because he’ll definitely end up pushing him off the bed if he does.

He breathes out audibly, eyes blinking away the darkness. He’s facing the wall, his face only centimeters from being squished into it. His right hand is drained of blood from him resting his head on it for too long. In his head, he’s trying to figure out how to best move without waking Liam up. Or perhaps just waking Liam up, maybe just go to the bathroom despite him not having to pee, but just to stretch out his limbs and get the blood flowing in his hand again.

Besides, maybe Liam wanted to be a gentleman, but Zayn definitely didn’t. So maybe, if he just woke Liam up, went to do his business, came back and straddled him and made a point of what he wanted. If only he could muster up enough courage to actually go through with it.

No, the initiating would definitely have to come from Liam.

He’s interrupted in his scheming when Liam abruptly turns over in his sleep, effectively pushing Zayn firmly against the wall.

Fuck this.

He sits up as best he can manage with his limited space, using the wall to steady himself while using the other hand to help scoot himself down to the end of the bed. As he stands, he turns to look at Liam. With the extra space now free, and Zayn’s body not there to keep him from rolling over, he’s now on his back, sheets tangled around his thighs, one hand resting on his stomach and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

With a sigh, he leaves Liam and goes to the bathroom and does his business. When he takes a look himself in the mirror, he looks tired and ruffled. His hair has completely fallen out of the half-arsed quiff he had styled it in for the date, flat against the side he’s been lying on. He runs a hand through it a couple of times, tries to get it back to life a bit. To make it look less like he’s been lying in the same position for too long and more like he’s had hands run through and tugged at it instead.

When he returns to the room, Liam’s looking at him through sleepy eyes. The street lights soak the room in a soft yellow hue, barely reaching the corner the bed is stuffed into, making everything, including Liam, look softer and like a picture.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Zayn mumbles, standing by the end of the bed, fiddling with the hem of his - _Liam’s_ \- shirt.

“You didn’t,” Liam says, voice thick from sleep, deeper and rougher with how it catches in his throat a bit. “Why are you up?”

Zayn shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep,”

Liam scoots over so his back is pressed against the well, making room for Zayn. He reaches an arm out towards him, inviting him to come closer, to come back to bed.

He does, lays down on his back, face angled towards Liam who’s snaking an arm over his torso and rubbing circles on his sides with a thumb. “Go to sleep, babe, it’s like, three,”

“I don’t want to sleep,” he bites his bottom lip, looking at Liam and hoping his eyes will do all the elaborating, because he’s not quite sure he will be able to really tell Liam what he wants.

“What do you want, then?” Liam mumbles at him, eyes almost all the way closed again.

Zayn makes a sound that hopefully doesn’t sound as much of a whine to Liam as it does to himself. He turns so he’s on his side, facing Liam. He hates this shyness he has when it comes to telling guys what he wants. It’s just- it’s always on the tip of his tongue, but it never comes out.

Instead of saying anything, he takes to showing, hitching a leg over Liam’s and using it as leverage to draw their bodies closer together, to hold Liam in place when he suggestively presses his hips against Liam’s.

It works, he thinks, when he feels the hand resting on his torso sliding up his chest, fingers scraping across a collarbone, sliding further up, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. A thumb soothes over his cheekbone, traces his jaw, and Liam’s looking directly into his eyes, searching for something Zayn’s not quite sure he has an answer to.

Zayn exhales deeply, reaches a hand up to trace Liam’s eyebrows, the scruffy stubble scattered along his jaw, down his neck. He presses a thumb to his bottom lip, dragging it down slightly, feeling Liam’s warm breath as he breathes out.

They breathe together for a while, fingertips searching the other’s features, memorizing and exploring at the same time. And they just look at each other, admire, watch, _feel_.

Zayn desperately wants Liam to kiss him, to feel those plump lips against his own again, to just _feel_ because he thinks connections can be felt through the way people kiss each other. So he tries to shift a little closer to Liam, to let on what he wants.

It’s incredibly slow, the way Liam leans forward, presses a hand to the back of Zayn’s neck like he’s afraid he’ll slip away. It’s even more slow, so gentle, when Liam finally presses his lips to Zayn’s. It’s just a soft kiss, and it feels sort of secret and too intimate with how they’re crowded together on a single bed, no room to move around or to _escape_ and how they’re hidden away from the soft glow of the street lights, in a world of their own in Liam’s tiny flat.

It’s the best kiss Zayn’s ever had. Slow, sweet, gentle, a promise of more.

Their lips move together quicker, rougher. Zayn presses against Liam’s lips with his tongue, forces them open to lick into his mouth. He’s awarded with a groan from Liam, can feel his cock fattening up where his thigh is rested against it. It’s difficult to contain his smirk, is sure Liam can feel it when it interrupts the kiss.

“Are you done being a gentleman?” he teases, grinds forward.

“No,” Liam gasps when Zayn grinds against him again, “but you make it really hard for me,”

Zayn hums in response. “Yeah, can definitely _feel_ how hard it is,” he giggles.

Liam groans, presses forward to kiss him again, to shut him up. “What do you want?” he eventually asks again. Zayn doesn’t know what to do to avoid answering it.

What he wants is to give Liam a blowjob, but he can’t say it.

Instead he just kisses him again, rearranges his legs so that he can straddle Liam, trail kisses over his jaw, down his neck. He’s seated in Liam’s lap, his torso covering Liam’s whose hands grab at his hips, smooths up and down his sides, pushing up his shirt.

“Off,” Liam murmurs, grasping at the thin material.

Zayn sits up, back straight, breathing heavily. He rubs a hand over Liam’s clenched stomach muscles. “Yours, too,”

They rid each other of their t-shirts quickly, and Zayn is quick to go back down to continue kissing Liam.

Liam’s hands come up to cradle his face, stroking a thumb behind his ear, other hand tugging at his hair. It makes him gasp, sends shivers down his spine. He secretly loves getting his hair pulled at.

“What do you want, Zayn?” Liam tries again when Zayn is busy marking his neck, his collarbones. The question makes him still this time. He’s gotten this far, can feel that Liam wants this as much as he does, but he still hesitates. “Zayn?”

He swallows. “I-uh, I just-,” he mumbles, hiding his face in Liam’s neck. He settles for scooting down, lower, trailing kisses across Liam’s chest, scraping his teeth over a spot every now and then. When he reaches where Liam’s cock is straining against his pants, he looks up at Liam, hesitant and questioning.

“Lift,” he pats at Liam’s hip, hooks his thumbs in the waistband to slide them off when Liam lifts his hips. He’s breathing hard, looking down at Zayn, anticipation written all over his face.

And Zayn can’t help but look Liam straight in the eyes when he takes his cock in hand, lowers his mouth over the tip, licks teasingly. Liam moans something strangled, eyes locked with Zayn’s. He ruts his hips up, chases Zayn’s mouth, a breath catching a bit in his throat.

Zayn keeps licking over the sensitive head, goes down a bit further, gets a bit braver. Eventually he stops trying to hold Liam’s gaze, focuses on what he’s doing, revels in it. He hates to sound like a slut, but he loves giving head. Loves making his partner feel good, loves having _control_ , being _praised_.

“Fuck, baby,” Liam gasps, “you’re perfect, your mouth, fuck-”

Zayn hums around his dick, can feel his own stirring at Liam’s compliment, at _baby_ because he likes how it sounds on Liam’s lips. He reaches a hand down and tugs himself off a bit, to build and simultaneously relieve tension.

A hand finds his hair, tugs at it, scratches at his scalp. It’s slow and dragged out, the way Zayn sucks Liam off. It’s intentional when he switches up his techniques, goes from licking slowly up the underside, kissing the head and tounging at the slit, takes him as deep as he can, sucks his cheeks in on the way up.

Liam likes it all. Zayn can feel it in the way the tugging at his hair becomes more erratic, more desperate.

He’s close, so Zayn puts in more effort. Tries to deep throat. He chokes a bit, swallows a cough.

“Shit,” Liam moans, “do that again,”

He swallows around his dick again, dragging a low moan from Liam’s lips with the effort. He does it a few more times, can feel his throat becoming raw from it. His own dick is straining against his pants, positively soaking them with precome, completely neglected in his efforts to make Liam feel good.

“Gonna-” is all Liam gets out before Zayn is pulled off with a loud ‘pop’. He barely gets to react before he feels something warm splashing on his lips, his cheeks, hanging in his eyelashes.

Liam came on his face. _Fuck_ , if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Fuck, sorry,” Liam’s laugh is breathless, orgasmic bliss settling on his face.

Zayn sits back on his heels, looks at Liam through his come-soaked lashes. He offers him a grin. “‘S okay,” he shrugs, “I’ll take it as a compliment,”

‘’You’re amazing,” Liam looks at him, awed, like he isn’t real. He probably looks absolutely filthy, certainly feels it, with how his hair undoubtedly looks a wreck, face covered in come, grinning. “C’mere,” Liam eyes his erection, reaches an arm out for him. He shakes his head.

“Gotta clean up before your come gets in my eyes,”

Liam stretches over, picks up a shirt from where it’d been tossed on the ground and throws it at him. “Here,”

He gives Liam a look but takes the shirt anyway and wipes the come away as best he can.

“Now, c’mere,” Liam says again, and this time he goes willingly, crawls back over Liam’s body. He’s pulled down to meet Liam’s lips, a hand playing with his hair, another trying to get off his pants. They help each other get them off, and Liam finally gets a hand around his now throbbing cock. He loses grip where he’s holding himself up, a hand on each side of Liam’s face, gasps when Liam twists his hand just right.

“Good?” Liam asks. Zayn can only nod and moan in response as he goes quicker. He can feel himself nearly slipping over the edge, so close.

Liam’s doing an expert job at wanking him off, coaxing whimpers from his lips with every other twist of his wrist.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax, Liam’s name on his tongue and teeth biting into his shoulder. He flops down onto Liam, smearing the come over both of their stomachs, panting into his neck. Liam soothes a hand up and down his back, whispers sweet nothings in his ear.

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other, for a while.

“C’mon, need to get cleaned up,” Liam says, ruining the moment of serenity.

Zayn sighs but gets up anyway. He climbs off Liam, locates his pants. He cringes when he puts them on, can feel the wetness of the precome’s he leaked. He can hear Liam in the bathroom, probably getting a cloth or something. He decides Liam doesn’t need his help and just flops back down on the bed. Sleeping won’t be an issue for him anymore.

He has his eyes closed when Liam returns, can feel him wipe something warm over his stomach, his cheek, gently over his eyes. His lips turn up in a content smile when Liam joins him in bed and cuddles close.

“Gotta get up early,” Liam mutters in his ear. He makes a dissatisfied sound. “My sister’s coming over, so unless you want to meet her…”

Zayn groans. Fuck no. “Yeah yeah, we’ll get up,” is the last thing he says before he drifts off into that sweet, sweet sleep.

…

He’s giddy when he eventually gets home despite not getting very much sleep. Liam chased him out of bed at eight, claiming that he had to shower and clean before his sister came over.

The butterflies in his stomach have been flapping around ever since he left Liam’s, and he has this feeling like maybe they could be something. Maybe they could be good together. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself, always has with things like this, but he lets himself have this fantasy.

Just for a little while.

“Your mum called this morning,” his aunt greets him when enters the kitchen. She’s having a cup of coffee, and there’s this look on her face, like she knows exactly what Zayn’s been doing, why he didn’t come home last night. He had tried to make the best of his fucked out hair, smooth it down, but he had apparently been unsuccessful in his efforts.

“Oh? That’s nice” he says, tries to play it cool.

It’s not that he isn’t out. He is and has been for a few years. He just doesn’t fancy his mum knowing everything about his love life. Or perhaps sex life, in this case. It just leads to too many questions and teasing from his sisters, his dad eventually asking when he gets to meet his new son-in-law. And while he’s grateful that his dad has been so supportive, so loving and understanding about his sexuality, he finds the question so obnoxious. Which is why he pretty early on started to avoid answering his family’s nosy questions.

“She wanted to talk to you, said she hasn’t heard from you in a while,” she clicks her tongue, watches him expectantly from the rim of her mug.

“Yeah, I just crashed at Lou’s, missed the last bus,” he lies through his teeth. She knows he’s lying, but she never pushes. That’s one thing Zayn’s always loved about her. He can tell her everything, and she’ll listen patiently, but she never pushes him to say more than he wants. She respects his private life. Would never do anything to betray his trust. Well, not unless he was in some deep shit. She told him once that she would never say anything to her sister, not unless Zayn wanted her to, not unless Zayn was in serious trouble.

“Well, give her a call, will you? You know how she starts worrying,”

He nods, turns around to leave for his room. “And take a shower, you reek,” is called after him, a loud laugh following. He flushes, can feel the blood flow to his cheeks. Fuck.

…

It’s late afternoon. He’s sat at the desk in his room, slaving over the semester’s first essay on Jane Eyre (he really needs to finish reading that, too), when Louis calls him.

“Yes?” he answers.

“Did you fuck?” He rolls his eyes at the question. He didn’t really expect anything less from Louis. He wants to tell him to fuck off, to mind his own business. Maybe tell him sex isn’t everything.

He doesn’t. “Yes. Anything else?”

“Thank God,” Louis whoops. “So? Any good?”

“We didn’t go all the way, but yeah, like, was alright,”

Louis snorts. “Just alright?”

“Lou, please, you know I’m not gonna give you any details,” he groans, rubs at his face with his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, guess I’m just gonna have to settle for ‘alright’, then,” Louis sighs. “Are you gonna see him again, at least?”

He shuts his laptop, leans back in the chair. “I guess, if he asks, like, he hasn’t texted me all day,”

“Maybe you should text him for once, like, if you want to see him again. You can’t just go around and depend on your blowjob skills to do the work for you,” he reasons.

“No, I know, but what if he doesn’t want to see me again? Then it’ll just be Patrick all over again,”

“Ha! So you did suck his dick! Knew you were a saucy minx, Z,” Zayn groans, can hear the smirk all over Louis’ face. “And don’t let that shit for brains ruin anything for you, Liam is not Patrick,”

And he’s right. Maybe he should just text Liam. Just to say thank you for letting him stay over, for last night.

“Yeah, you’re right, Lou,”

“I always am. You should know this by now. Anyway, Harry’s here, so I’m gonna run. Text me!”

The comment leaves Zayn to stare at his blank phone. So now Harry knows that he’s given Liam head. Fucking Louis fucking Tomlinson and his uncapability to keep private things fucking _private_.

_Zayn: ur a dick_

He sends it to Louis. A smiley face is all he gets back.

He goes into his chat with Liam. Considers texting him something. Because maybe Liam is in the same situation that he is. Maybe he’s just waiting for Zayn to say something, anything that implies last night wasn’t just a one time thing.

He types out three different things. A ‘thank you for last night’. A ‘last night was great’ followed by a ‘do want to see me again?’. They sound too… not casual. So in the end, he settles for just asking Liam how his day went, if he had a good time with his sister.

The answer is almost immediate.

_Liam: yeah, it was great :) she kept askin bout u_

Wait. Liam told his sister about him?

_Zayn: u told ur sister about me?_  
_Liam: sure, is that not ok?_

Zayn’s not sure, honestly. He’s flattered, of course, but he’s not sure if it’s too soon. At the same time, he can’t help but feel the butterflies return. Because if Liam’s told his sister about him, then maybe that means Liam wants to see him again, see where this thing can go.

_Zayn: no its fine :) just surprised. what did she ask?_  
_Liam: she wanted to know if u gave good head lol_

He groans. What was it with people and their obsession with this topic? Did they not have anything else to worry about? He honestly hopes Liam did not answer. Told him that he didn’t know, _something_. Because he’ll be damned before a member of another person’s family knows something that intimate about him.

He’s just about to tell Liam this when he gets another message.

_Liam: didnt say anythin, but the look on my face kinda gave me away //: sorryyyyyy_

Fucking hell.

_Zayn: r u kidding me liaaaaam_  
_Liam: r u mad?_

No, he’s not, but.. well.

_Zayn: no, im not, promise. just not something u want ppl to know about u, u kno??_  
_Liam: sorry baby xx_

And yeah, he’ll forgive him in no time if he keeps calling him baby.

_Liam: anyway u wanna do anything next week?? like see a film or summat?_  
_Zayn: sure xx any day works_

They settle for Thursday. It works best with them both having late classes the next day. It means Zayn doesn’t have to worry about catching the bus home at night. It means that, maybe, he can stay over at Liam’s again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing really happened in this chapter (and i clearly have a soft spot for liam calling zayn baby sorry not sorry) - but still let me know what you think! 
> 
> thank you for reading :) it really does mean a lot xx


	4. “C’mon, you look thirsty,”

“Why are you cleaning right now?” Zayn’s sitting in one of Liam’s chairs, knees pressed to his chest, nursing a cup of coffee and watching Liam fiddle with his vacuum cleaner.

It’s only nine in the morning. There really is no need to be cleaning at such a time. There is also no need to be awake at such an ungodly hour, but they haven’t quite figured out how to share Liam’s small bed. Not yet. And Liam is apparently a morning person. Zayn is definitely not. Prefers to sleep in, to stay in bed for hours even after he’s woken up.

He feels kind of cheated, actually. Cheated out of cuddles and Liam’s strong arms around him. And sleep, of course.

“Because some of the lads are coming over later and I have a late class today,” Liam shrugs, plugging in the vacuum and starting it up.

And right, of course. It’s Friday. Zayn had almost forgotten, actually. Too wrapped up in his second date with Liam the night before to remember anything else on his social calendar.

As Zayn sits there in Liam’s tiny flat, drinking his morning coffee, watching Liam clean, it all feels sort of domestic. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘we’re extremely comfortable with each other’ type of way. It’s kind of strange how easy they fall into this dynamic. Like they’ve known each other for longer than they have. But it also feels- honestly he has no word for it. Couple-y? No, that’s wrong.

Just chill, he supposes.

He likes it.

“So will I see you at the bar tonight?” Liam asks him when he’s putting away the vacuum.

Zayn shrugs. “Yeah, probably,” Louis will probably drag him, and it’s not like he has anything else to do. It also means he’ll see Liam, and if he has sappy fantasies of Liam pulling him close, kissing him in front of everyone, then no one has to know but him.

“Who’s coming over then?”

“Oh, you know, just Harry, Niall, and Andy,” Liam shrugs, bends down to pick up the clothes they had ripped off each other last night. Zayn smirks at the memory. The undeniable tension between them as their film had ended. Liam’s lips at his ear, whispering if he wanted to come back to his. They had already discussed that it would be easier for Zayn to stay over, but the way Liam had said it had made it sound absolutely filthy, like it wasn’t a question of just Zayn staying over.

“We should probably shower before we leave,” Liam says, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Zayn nods, agreeing. He expects Liam to go first, it is his shower after all, and takes a sip of his coffee.

When Liam doesn’t leave, Zayn raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Are you coming? Or do I have to carry you to the bathroom,” Liam chuckles.

…

He had never showered with anyone before. And yeah, it was weird at first. He hadn’t really had a habit of being naked before anyone when they weren’t about to have sex, and he was shy. Not insecure, but not as confident as Liam apparently was.

But it was nice, standing with Liam under the warm spray of water, grinning at each other while washing their hair. At some point Liam stops lathering the shampoo around in his own hair and movies his hands to Zayn’s hair. He can’t recall when was the last time someone washed his hair for him.

But the way Liam scratches his nails slightly at his scalp and tugs through the knots in his hair has soft noises coming involuntarily from his mouth and his eyes closing. Shyness aside, he’s determined to enjoy this. He’s sure he visibly relaxes at the touch, too, when Liam places a hand on his hip and turns him around, presses against his back and breathes down his neck.

It makes him shiver.

“Good?” Liam wonders, presses a kiss against the tattoo high on his back.

Zayn hums in response, can’t really say anything unless he wants water in his mouth. But he pushes back against Liam’s fingers, urging him to dig in deeper, apply more pressure.

Head massages are severely underrated, he thinks.

It’s not at all sexual when Liam runs his hands lower, smooths them down his arms and closes his arms around him, hands now resting on top of each other on his abdomen. Not that it should be, but it baffles him a bit how comfortable he is like this. Naked in the shower with a guy he’s not even known for a month.

He could definitely get used to it, though, if Liam will let him.

Time stands still, it seems. He still has shampoo in his hair, Liam has, too, but it doesn’t bother any of them. He can feel it slide down his neck, and Liam is probably gonna get it his mouth or his eyes with how he’s resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder, face turned to him. None of them move or try to wash it away.

It’s so- intimate is the thing. Almost too intimate of an act, but he still lets himself enjoy it, lets it swallow him whole, and he forces himself to just not think about it. So he lets himself be held by strong arms, focuses on how the embrace feels even more intense when the steam billows around them. How it feels like he’s being encased from both sides.

They stay like that for a while, enjoying being so close to each other. And he thought long talks late at night and sex was how to feel close to someone, but he’s starting to change his mind. He’s realising that words and actions maybe aren’t needed, that maybe such an innocent thing as an embrace is enough.

He knows that they eventually will have to finish up. As much as he would like to stay there for hours (and he really, really would), they both have classes to go to. And while he normally wouldn’t be bothered about missing one, he knows Liam’s studies are much more demanding than his own.

“We should finish up,” he sighs. It’s probably for the best, too. His skin is starting to feel just on the wrong side of soft, knows he’ll have wrinkles on his fingers by now.

“Okay,” Liam mumbles and disentangles himself. He pushes Zayn forward gently to let the water run over his hair.

He finishes up quickly. Liam takes his turn under the spray, rinses out the shampoo and soaps up his body. He looks so fucking- _delicious_ like this. It makes Zayn’s dick twitch. But they don’t have time, he knows this, and Liam winks at him like he knows it, too.

He probably knows how he looks like this. Skin glistening and flushed from the warmth, soap trailing down his defined chest. And he probably knows exactly what it does to Zayn, who just feels useless and is probably being a bit creepy with how he’s just standing there, watching- no, _appreciating_ Liam.

And he desperately wants to touch, but he knows it’s a bad idea. He would probably not want to stop, and _they don’t have time_.

“C’mon, you look thirsty,” Liam smirks, lets out a loud laugh at his own joke, and leaves.

…

While he greatly enjoys Siegfried Sassoon’s poetry, he just doesn’t have it in him to focus on it. His professor is in the middle of grilling some poor girl about the meaning of the word ‘shells’, and he should be paying attention, because he knows this is how to get all the good points, but he can’t really take his mind off how Liam pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth just outside campus before running off to his own class.

He can’t help the secretive smile that grazes his lips, tries hard to suppress it, because smiling while someone else is doing a poor job of answering a professor’s questions is definitely frowned upon.

“Mr. Malik,” the professor calls, goes to stand in front of him. She looks down at him, expectantly. “What do you think is meant when Sassoon says the women make them shells?”

He frowns, thinks hard about it. “I think it has two meanings. A shell is empty, but a shell is also a bomb. So he says the women both think of them as empty, but also as bombs,”

She looks pleased, like it was the correct answer. “A great example of relating the poem to the topic when analysing it,” she declares and, luckily, moves on to someone else.

He knows he won’t be called on again. He had this professor last semester in his Intro to Lit course, and she usually lets you off the hook once you’ve answered a question to her satisfaction.

He tries to pay more attention throughout the rest of his class. Tries to resist the urge to just open up Facebook on his laptop to see if Liam’s online. Maybe he’s bored, too. He resists, in the end. Liam’s probably busy with learning legal terms and important things, he doesn’t need to be distracted from that.

Besides, he’ll see him at the bar later.

…

He’s outside in the yard, smoking a cigarette and listening to Louis- no, pretending to listen to Louis, when he spots Liam at the other end, chatting with a guy he doesn’t know, over Louis’ shoulder. They look oddly comfortable, too close. It annoys Zayn to no end. They’re not exclusive or anything, but he can’t help but think that if it’s because Liam wants sex, he can just ask for it. He would say yes.

And if Liam is just keeping his options open, which is also _fine_ because they’re _not_ exclusive, then maybe the polite thing to do was to keep his options open somewhere Zayn isn’t gonna be.

“Who’s that?” Zayn interrupts Louis, eyes narrowed in Liam’s direction. He sounds annoyed, but it can’t be helped. He wants answers.

“Who?” Louis asks, looking around and trying to find the target of Zayn’s glare.

“The guy Liam’s with,” he explains, nods towards them.

Louis laughs. Obnoxiously loud. “That’s Andy, mate. Are you- are you _jealous_?”

“Why are they standing so close? Like, did something happ-” he’s interrupted by Louis laughing even louder.

“You _are_ jealous. That’s adorable,” he wheezes.

He’s not. (He is, kinda.)

What he definitely is, though, is two seconds away from kicking Louis in the shins if he doesn’t stop laughing.

“Fuck off, just tell me, for fuck’s sake,” Zayn spits.

“Oi! Don’t be cross with me, you little shit. But that’s a definite no. They’re friends from back home,” Louis explains, still clearly humoured at Zayn’s expense. But his answer does settle that monster inside him that threatened to expose his jealous ways.

“Right,” he mumbles. He can feel the blood rush to his cheeks, he’s embarrassed, and right now he’s quite grateful for his darker skin.

Louis looks amused, waggles his eyebrows at him. Prick.

For a moment, he ponders why Liam hasn’t said hello to him yet. Their paths haven’t crossed naturally, they haven’t been at the bar at the same time, not on the dance floor or by the toilets. But he’s positive that Liam’s seen him, he’s certainly seen Liam. He’s also actually watching out for him, constantly looking around to spot him. Maybe Liam isn’t doing the same.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he decides not to think about it.

“Louis,” he demands, taking a deep drag of his smoke and throwing it to the ground, “get me drunk,”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Louis salutes and proceeds to drag him inside to the bar. He orders up ten of Zayn’s favorite (and lethal) shots, and Zayn promptly downs five.

If he’s gonna keep his mind off Liam, if he’s gonna try and enjoy himself, he’s gotta be a lot less sober.

…

He’s just on the right side of drunk. He’s all smiles and hugs and loving words to anyone he talks to. He even talks to some of the people from his class. Most of them look at him like they aren’t really believing what they’re seeing. Maybe it’s because he barely talks to them, barely recognises them unless he has to.

He even participated in a game of beer pong. It’s not something he really does, and when he loses and has to chug too much beer, he remembers why. He’s horrible at it. He’d partnered up with Harry, who was just as horrible as him, and Louis and Niall had won embarrassingly fast.

His plan to get drunk and not think about Liam has worked. Mostly. He doesn’t look for him anymore, not that much, at least. And he’s making new friends. The girl who got grilled in class today had come up to him, thanking him for taking her place in the hot seat.

“You should join our study group,” the girl - Perrie - says. They’re in the yard, sitting on a bench and sharing a cigarette.

“Yeah? Sick,” he grins. Perrie nods at him.

“Definitely. We meet up a couple of times a week at the library, just to discuss the material before and after class. We also help each other with essays and stuff, and it’s just kinda nice to know the people you have class with,”

He offers her a dopey smile. It would be kinda nice to actually have someone to sit beside that he knows.

“So who are you looking for, anyway?” she asks teasingly, “we’ve been out here for like, half an hour, and you keep looking around,”

He lets out a loud groan. “No one,” he lies.

“Sure,” she rolls her eyes at him.

“Fuck, alright. It’s just this guy, alright, and we’ve been kinda seeing each other, but we haven’t even spoken the entire night, and I just thought, _fuck_ \- I don’t know what I thought, but-” he stops himself abruptly. He hardly knows this girl, and he’s normally not such a sharer. It’s probably just the alcohol, but he sounds pathetic, and it’s not a good first impression.

He risks a look at Perrie, expects to find her judging him or at least an annoyed look in her pale blue eyes, but she just looks at him curiously, her eyes urging him to go on.

“I don’t know. Sorry for, uhm, _that_.” he laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair.

She chuckles, “Don’t be sorry. But why are you waiting for him to come talk to you? Why haven’t you just gone up to him?”

“I don’t want to be clingy,” he admits. It’s a mistake he made with Patrick. Being too clingy. He’s determined to learn from it, determined to be okay with not having constant contact even though he’s not.

“In my experience - and I’m sorry to be so blunt - but if he likes you, then he won’t see you as clingy. So if he does,” she shrugs, “then he’s just not that into you, and it’s better to find that out sooner rather than later, no?”

He nods. It’s possibly the best advice he’s gotten. And she’s right, he knows she is. It makes perfect sense. But he can’t make himself take that advice, because if there’s even a chance Liam’s on the fence about him, then he’s not gonna give him any excuses to write him off.

“Yeah, you’re- you’re right. I just really like him, and I’m not gonna ruin it by being-” he lowers his eyes to the ground, doesn’t say the _me_ he’s thinking, “too much, you know? Not when it’s still new,”

Perrie’s looking at him like she understands, almost a little pitying. “Honestly, you’re going to ruin it if you’re not being yourself,”

He snorts. Doubtful.

“Seriously,” she continues, “if you have to suppress your needs, then it’s just not gonna be good. A relationship is all about giving and receiving, right, and if you don’t receive what you need, then you’re only gonna be giving, and that’s exhausting, trust me, no matter how much you like him,”

She’s still right, and she’s so nice, too. And while he loves Louis, he also doesn’t want to bother him with any of this. He laid ear to plenty of his insecurities when he was seeing Patrick, and he knows how tiring it was for him.

“You give wonderful advice,” he tells Perrie, giving her a small smile. She returns it with an even bigger one.

“Come on,” she says, standing, “shots on me, and then we dance,”. She holds out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

He does with a grin and follows her inside.

…

Dancing with Perrie is hilarious. She does all these silly moves that makes him throw his head back and laugh. They probably look stupid, but he’s drunk enough that he couldn’t give less of a shit, not when Perrie’s grinning at him and twirling him around like he’s a ballerina in training.

He hasn’t seen any of his friends for a while, but he thinks that maybe he is with a friend right now, and Louis works in mysterious ways anyway when he’s drunk.

At some point Perrie goes to the bathroom, and Zayn’s not going to dance on his own, so he makes his way to the bar, orders a beer and looks around. He makes eye contact with Niall at the other end of the bar, salutes him with his beer. He doesn’t expect Niall to break away from the girl he’s talking to, but he strides over to Zayn and greets him with a pat on his arm.

“So,” he starts, “you and Liam, eh?”

Zayn laughs. “Maybe,”

“Great guy, Liam,” Niall says. Zayn shrugs noncommittally. “He’s not been dealt the most fortunate hand,” Niall continues, and Zayn thinks it’s weird for Niall to tell him this. “But he’s really great, and he deserves so much, you know?”

Zayn just blinks at him, doesn’t really know how to respond to this. Sure, he knew Liam had been bullied, about his relationship with his father, and maybe that was what Niall meant.

“He’s not really been that lucky with dating, either, you know,” he continues, takes a sip of his nearly empty beer. Zayn wonders how many he’s had already. “And to think he actually tried pulling Lou,” he chuckles, like it’s funny, like Zayn already knew that Liam tried to pull his best friend.

A million thoughts run through Zayn’s mind. The first being why Louis didn’t tell him when he first mentioned Liam to him. The second being why Niall is even telling him this. The third being if he’s just the _next best thing_.

But Louis kept it from him. At least he understands why Louis was being weird about Liam now.

“Shit, you didn’t know?” Niall pulls him from his thoughts, eyes wide and guilty. He must’ve seen the strangled grimace Zayn made.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, “it doesn’t matter, right? Lots of people try to pull Lou,” It’s true, too. They hardly ever succeed, though.

And it really doesn’t matter, he tells himself. The only reason he’s giving it any thought is because Louis is his best friend. That’s the only reason why it’s weird. Also, he doesn’t want to know about Liam’s past flings or fucks or anything of the sort. It’s not his business, anyway, and it’s information he’d rather be in the dark about.

He doesn’t fault Niall for bringing it up. It’s easy spewing all kinds of shit when you’re drunk. Besides, Niall thought he already knew. And Zayn’s kind of disappointed that he didn’t.

As if on cue, there’re arms coming around him, a body pressing up behind him, lips by his ear.

“Hey baby,” Liam whispers. It’s so easy to know it’s him, even without him saying anything. He smells of beer and cigarette smoke, but underneath that is the same smell of olives and basil that had filled Zayn’s nose in the shower earlier.

“Hey,” he says softly, his features going soft and fond. Niall snickers at them, raises his cup in salutation before he leaves.

“Where have you been?” Liam murmurs, lips still grazing over Zayn’s neck, teasing at his ear and nipping at his earlobe.

“Around,” he replies and turns around in Liam’s arms to face him. He lifts his arms to rest on his shoulders, grins at him cheekily.

Liam smiles fondly at him before leaning forward to press his lips against Zayn’s. It’s kinda sloppy, the kiss. It’s a bit too wet, there’s no finesse like the other times they’ve kissed. Zayn finds he doesn’t much mind it, because it’s kind of primal, like Liam just can’t get enough of how he tastes. And to be honest, he can’t get enough of Liam’s lips on his. They’re plump and warm and soft, completely unlike his own which are always a bit chapped from biting at them too much.

“Dance with me,” Liam murmurs when he pulls away slightly. Zayn can’t help pushing forward again, kiss him again, while they’re still so close, while he has the courage to.

He doesn’t even get to answer before Liam’s pulling him to the dance floor. And he’s glad Liam’s pulling him close, presses strong fingers into his hips to guide him.

They grin at each other, swaying together off-beat to a too dance-y tune. He feels a little awkward like this, he’s not used to dancing when it feels more like a mating ritual than anything else. He’s not sure if he should try and be seductive, is pretty sure he would fail at it, but Liam looks at him like he’s ready to devour him, so maybe he’s doing okay.

Some smooth tune comes on, he doesn’t know it, but their swaying is more in tune with it. He’s just about to put his hands on Liam’s shoulders when he’s turned around and pressed into his chest instead, impossibly closer.

 _This_. This he knows how to do.

So he grinds his arse back against Liam’s crotch and leans his head back onto his shoulder. The reaction is immediate. Liam’s grip on his hips tightens, keeps him in place, and he ducks his head down. And Liam definitely knows this song, sings _ride it, just lose control_ softly in his ear.

He fits his hands over Liam’s, presses his fingers in the spaces between Liam’s and gets into it. Lets himself get lost in it. Liam’s still singing along, his breath hot against his neck, pressing his lips against his skin whenever the song will let him.

It might be his new favorite song.

“Gonna take me home, Liam?” he asks when the song changes. He’s feeling bold with how Liam’s all around him, almost possessive, and he thinks he won’t be pushing his luck with his request. Because that’s really what it is, isn’t it. A request more than a question.

“ _Yes_ ,” Liam breathes, bites teasingly at his earlobe before stepping away. He grabs Zayn’s hand and drags him away from the dance floor. To go _home_.

Zayn’s grinning the entire time. They pass Perrie, dancing with some girls on their way, who winks at him. He’ll be sure to thank her for her therapy session next time he sees her.

When they’re waiting in line for their coats, he shoots Louis a quick text.

_Zayn: i left, takl 2 u tmrr_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally!! a new chapter. hope it was worth the wait :) if you want, you can come talk to me on tumblr (also at livingdead101) :)
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who's read it, it truly makes me smile.
> 
> the poem is Glory of Women by Siegfried Sassoon, and the song is Ride It by Jay Sean :)


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